


will we be together forever?

by SmittyJaws



Series: you're my best friend [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, ace!Deaky, ace!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:25:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmittyJaws/pseuds/SmittyJaws
Summary: Based off of some ace!Deaky x ace!Reader headcanons by the lovely @glamrockmonarch on Tumblr.Here there be angst galore, fluff, feels, humour, and ultimately, the best damn boyfriend you've ever had.





	will we be together forever?

**Author's Note:**

> Given that this is my first real fic for Queen, I want to thank @glamrockmonarch for her kickass headcanons, and @brian-may-likes-dust for putting up with all my agonizing over this fic as I wrote it/live-texted her my updates to the fic xD you’re stellar, and I love you both 💜💜💜
> 
> Very slight AU, mostly in that this story assumes asexuality is more visible/discussed in the 70s (still stigmatized much like any deviation from “standard” heterosexual relationships though), but otherwise not much else is different aside from my lapses in memory regarding other historical information. Fic title is taken from the lyrics to You and I.
> 
> Also, given that asexuality is a spectrum, and this character is directly based off my own experiences being ace, I know not everyone may identify with this ace character. With that said, though, I hope people enjoy my angst-filled ace romance!

It’s not easy, being asexual; everyone thinks you’re strange for not wanting to have sex. They assume you’re some kind of sexual deviant(? you have no idea how that works when you’re pretty sure you need to actually _have_ sex to be a deviant), or that there’s some hormonal deficiency going on. So most of the time you just don’t mention it; trying to fly under the radar of “normalcy” and hope no one asks about your sexual encounters. It doesn’t always work, but a partial success rate is better than nothing. 

When you meet Freddie, you’re a little ashamed to say you thought he seemed like the kind of person who would never understand. Constantly open and bold about his sexuality (or as much as a man could be, given that homosexuality/similar behaviour has only been decriminalized for a few years), you didn’t think someone that sex-positive could understand your complete disinterest and aversion towards those kinds of activities. 

However, when he finds out it turns out that he’s one of the most sympathetic people to your cause, joking that with you out of the running, it just means he’ll need to have twice as much sex himself to compensate. You had had a knot of stress in your stomach all day in anticipation for this chat, but it unravels at that comment, and you find yourself relaxing and laughing, happy that you’ve found someone you can be open with about this. He’ll never fully understand, just as you’ll never fully understand his sexual interests, but he never judges you and is always willing to listen, and for now, that’s enough.

——

Over time, you become a regular at Freddie and his friend Roger’s Kensington Market stall, both for the eclectic assortment of items they have there, and their entertaining company. It certainly makes a nice difference from your quiet flat, even if it makes it a lot harder for you to get any of your uni homework done. Freddie always slips you a “loyalty discount” whenever you buy anything (which is not very often, given how tight your finances are, but you try to support them where possible), while Roger berates him that they can’t afford to give discounts. Freddie just shrugs and gives you the discount anyway when Roger’s back is turned. 

It’s a Tuesday, you remember when you think back on it later. You had finished an exam earlier than expected, and you decide to just go straight to the market instead of going home first. 

You had made plans to go to a pub later with Roger and Freddie. Roger had claimed it was to celebrate your exam being finished, but you’re certain it’s more about him just wanting to drink away his own exam woes. You’re sympathetic to a point; Biology is not a course of study you’d ever want for yourself, especially after seeing some of the work required. (You and Roger have spent multiple occasions trying to one-up each other in regards to who has the more intense field of study, and usually only stop when Freddie gets tired of hearing you bicker.)

You’re not sure if it’s because you’re arriving at a different time, but there’s actually a few people inside the market when you arrive. Freddie’s face lights up when he sees you, and immediately gestures you over to where he’s talking animatedly to two other young men. When you get close enough, Freddie wastes no time in introducing you. “This is the lovely young lady I’ve been telling you about!” You wave shyly, feeling very self-conscious about the fact that Freddie’s been talking about you in your absence.

He notices your awkwardness immediately, pulling you toward him before you can try and slink away to your quiet corner in the back to read a book to pass the extra time. “Come on, darling, don’t be shy, Rog’s the only one who would ever bite you and he behaves, doesn’t he? These are Brian and John; they play with Rog and me in the band.”

The young men in question smile and nod back in return; Brian looks more imposing due to his height, but you quickly realize that he’s not at all intimidating and is actually quite well-spoken about his studies in Astrophysics when you ask. John, in turn, is much more soft-spoken than Brian, but he’s also passionate about his work with electrical engineering, telling you about the amp he made with parts he collected from a skip. 

Freddie asks if you mind whether Brian and John join you for drinks tonight, to which you let him know that it’s completely fine. You’re enjoying your chat with John (Brian has since wandered over towards Roger, and they appear to be having a heated discussion with a customer about something), and you don’t want to stop talking. 

——

It turns out you and John have a lot of common interests, and you naturally seem to gravitate towards each other when you hang out with the group. You can see Brian and Freddie eyeing your interactions with John sometimes when they think you aren’t looking, but they never say anything directly to you. You’re honestly not entirely sure why they’re behaving this way; it’s just two friends enjoying each other’s company. 

You confront Freddie about it one day and ask him if there’s something wrong. He denies it: “It’s just a bit surprising, is all! Deaky never usually takes to people that quickly; it took me ages before he’d actually have a decent conversation. But he seems to like you!” 

Your suspicions abated, you pay them no mind anymore, just enjoying things as they come. You laugh and joke around together, and you do seem to notice what Freddie had pointed out; that John seems to open up more when the two of you talk. As the weeks pass, you’re thankful that no one has questioned your disinterest in sexual activities or even dating in general thus far, even though Roger and Freddie tend to (frequently) be very vocal about their complaints that they need to see more action. Hell, even Brian gripes about it periodically but makes no real effort to pick up any girls when they go to the pub (and if Roger is to be believed, any other time either as Brian’s head is too busy being stuck in his textbooks).

The only one who doesn’t tend to complain is John, and you assume it’s for one of two reasons: one, either because he’s just choosing to keep his head down and not add to the argumentative din while the others wax eloquent about their struggles thereof, or two, because he’s got a girlfriend and gets enough action and is being gracious enough to not rub it in the other’s faces. You’re not sure why, though, but the thought of John having someone else bothers you somewhat. You try not to dwell on it too much, though, and tune back in to the conversation just in time to see Brian make some big sweeping hand gesture (presumably for the sake of whatever story he’s telling) spilling Roger’s lager all over his lap, to which everyone else is laughing like fools, while the blond is now bitching Brian out for wasting a perfectly good beer and mucking up his clothes. 

More time passes, and you learn that John does not have a girlfriend, but that he does value his privacy and simply chooses not to get involved in those conversations. You can’t say as you blame him, honestly - you’re fairly certain that even if you did have any sexual escapades to speak of, you wouldn’t want them aired out like that in front of other people. 

Freddie has been inviting you to come to see them perform for months, and you’ve sadly had to decline due to your heavy course load. But now that your uni schedule has let up a bit, you find yourself attending every show you can to support them. It’s electrifying to watch them on stage, no matter how many times you watch the same setlist. There’s always something new and exciting to notice about their performance together, whether it’s John’s bass riffs, Brian’s intricate guitar playing, Roger’s ability to coordinate singing and keeping time with the drums (you have no idea how he manages that), or Freddie’s increasingly outrageous dance moves. 

It gets to the point where Roger jokes that they should give you a job as band staff since you attend so many shows. You pretend to think about the offer: “Depends. How much will you pay me?”

“Would we be able to entice you with payment in beer and sexual favours?” He bats his eyelashes at you in a manner that you assume is meant to look alluring, but simply makes him look as though he’s been staring at a bright light for too long.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, if it means you’ll stop doing whatever it is you’re doing with your face, Rog. You look like you have a twitch.”

His (and the other three boys’) eyebrows raise up into his scalp at your acceptance, as you’ve always shut down all of his attempts to flirt with you previously, and it’s become somewhat of a running joke. He opens his mouth to say something, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “I’m accepting the beer; nothing else. Save the sexual favours for someone who thinks facial tics are attractive.”

There’s a moment of silence, then the table breaks into laughter, Roger loudest of all. “Damn! You had me going for a moment there!” He grins at you and you return it, chuckling. “Have to keep you on your toes if you want me to work with you, Rog. Get used to it.”

The table settles down into another conversation again, and you find yourself just watching, enjoying the easy camaraderie the group shares. You feel an increase in warmth by your side, and notice that John’s leaned in a bit closer to you as he also watches the banter, a look of fond amusement on his face. Neither of you says anything, but then again, you don’t need to - the two of you have been perfecting the art of communication through a single glance, and you know he’s just as content as you are right now, sharing this moment with the group. You suppose that’s part of why you get along so well; finding someone you can share that kind of easy silence with is difficult. 

——

By the time their next few shows roll around, Roger has made good on his deal, or rather yours, as he likes to constantly remind you: “You agreed to this, sweetheart! It’s legal and binding!”, and has put you to work helping out the band. They won’t let you load/unload instruments and equipment, despite your protests that you do know your way around handling instruments _thankyouverymuch_ (although you’re not as offended about Brian’s refusal - you know that he won’t allow anyone to touch the Old Lady) and that you’re not some delicate flower who can’t handle a bit of heavier lifting. Regardless, Roger decides he wants you to help more as a stylist of sorts (despite the fact that Freddie makes most of those choices for the band? Who even knows what Roger’s logic is) and has you helping out with the hair/makeup/outfits and such before they perform.

You’re honestly not sure how much you’re actually helping them out, but they all insist that you’re doing a marvellous job and that they couldn’t do better; except Freddie who insists that you can’t improve upon perfection. You just shrug and figure if you’re essentially getting free beer (cheap beer, but free nonetheless) to basically do nothing but apply some basic eyeliner/mascara and approve clothing choices, you can’t really complain. 

One day before a performance, you’re helping John out with his makeup, sitting on his lap to apply eyeliner so you don’t lean over him awkwardly and accidentally jab him (like you did to Roger _one time_ , but he has never let you live it down since). He sits there patiently with his eyes closed while you do your business, neither of you thinking much about the position you’re sitting in as this is nothing new. But apparently, Brian has, as well as been paying attention to your closeness in general. “You two,” he calls over from where he’s tuning his guitar. 

“Yeah?” you reply, not looking up from where you’re trying to even out John’s left eye to match his right. 

“Are you two dating yet?”

It’s a good thing you’ve finished and have moved the eyeliner pencil away from John’s face by the time Brian says that, because John’s eyes fly open in surprise (as you’re sure yours have as well), and the two of you quickly exchange a look before you and John whip your heads around to face Brian. He’s still looking at you both expectantly. “You what, Bri?”

“I said, are you two dating yet? God knows you spend enough time together; if you aren’t, you might as well be.”

You decide that this conversation is being made more awkward by the fact that you’re still straddling John’s lap, and decide to get off and stand beside the chair so you can at least retain a small shred of dignity. You briefly glance at John while you’re standing up, seeing that he looks as embarrassed as you do by this. “…no? We’re just friends, Bri.” John nods in agreement, but doesn’t say anything further, and decides to stare at the ugly carpeted floor instead. 

Brian raises his eyebrows, clearly skeptical, but doesn’t say any more about the matter. Then Freddie calls them over to get ready to go on stage, and the moment is over, but John still mutters some apologies on his way out the door and won’t meet your eyes. It’s alright, though, because you’re not sure you could meet his right now anyway after that brief-but-mortifying conversation.

——

Things are a bit awkward after that for a few days, where both you and John can’t seem to hold significant eye contact for long and don’t sit as close together when you’re out together as a group. Brian for his part seems completely oblivious to what he’s done, but who knows anymore after he dropped that question on you both out of nowhere? 

Then you start thinking more about what Brian said; about you and John dating. Truth be told, you’d never really considered it before now - you were happy with the friendship you had. You don’t want to lose what you currently have with John, but now your traitorous brain is conjuring up images of what it might be like if you did date him, and you have to admit you may be attracted to him (at least a little).

There’s one other problem, though - you haven’t told John yet about your lack of interest in sexual activity. It’s never come up, and you don’t want to just drop that information on him out of nowhere. That said, you consider him a good friend, and you figure you can trust him with this even if nothing happens between you two. If something does happen, though… you haven’t had good experiences trying to date straights before, so maybe if you tell him right away and he’s not interested, that’ll hurt less than telling him later and being accused of leading him on. Who knows, though? Just because you’re harbouring an attraction to John doesn’t mean he’s attracted to you, so maybe you’re just worrying over nothing. 

Thankfully the awkwardness dies down after about a week or so, and things go back to their usual state; you and John sitting close together, conversing about everything and nothing, complaining about uni coursework, making jokes at the others’ expense and sniggering like schoolchildren at Brian during band practice while he practices ridiculously long guitar solos. Nothing comes up again for a while about dating, and you think you’re about ready to finally tell John about being ace. 

Then things change yet again.

——

You’re going through the usual pre-show prep, helping Brian out with his makeup this time (he’s usually fine to do his own, but he’d managed to somehow make a mess of it last time, and Freddie had insisted that you take care of it for tonight). Roger and Freddie are off in front of another mirror, fooling around and posturing in the most ridiculous fashion, and John’s leaned up against the wall, watching you work. Suddenly he speaks up, rather tentatively and calls your name.

“Yeah, Deaks?” You look over from your work on Brian and see him shuffling his feet awkwardly where he’s standing. There’s a moment of silence, and you go back to working on Brian, knowing you don’t want to have to do it in a rush.

“So…uh, there’s this bar, y’know?” He sounds like he’s trying really hard to be smooth, but it comes out as more adorably awkward. For your part, you’re trying to mask your surprise; is he really doing what you think he’s doing? You’re so caught up in your thoughts, you almost don’t hear him continue speaking: “I hear it’s quite nice, maybe we could…go there sometime?”

Oh dear Lord. He most certainly is doing what you think he is. Part of you is elated - he likes you too! But the other part of you is terrified because you still haven’t told him yet about being ace. You realize he’s waiting for an answer, though, and don’t want to be impolite. A split-second decision has you damning the consequences and deciding you can tell John your news later. “Mmhmm,” you hum an affirmative response, still focusing on putting some finishing touches on Brian’s makeup. You can see Brian smirking, and hiss at him to _wipe that look off his face goddamnit_ before continuing to respond to John. “Next Friday works for me. Should I wear dancing shoes?” you joke as you look over and smile at John, whose whole face is lit up in a sunny grin of his own. He nods back in response: “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

You hear applause and cheers immediately after your confirmation and jump slightly. Brian, Freddie, and Roger are all looking at you and John like proud parents. “It’s about bloody time, darlings!” Freddie crows, wrapping an arm around each of you. “We were wondering how long it would take you to finally go out together.”

You and John share an embarrassed look again while Freddie refuses to let go of either of you as he continues to make a grand speech about what a perfect couple he’s always thought the two of you would make. But (somehow) it’s much less mortifying than it was when Brian confronted you, and so when your eyes meet John’s, it’s more of a shared “oh God at least we’re in this together” look. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

——

Friday rolls around, and you’re an anxious bundle of nerves. You’re excited to get a chance to spend time with John alone and have some fun, but you’re also cursing your past self for not telling him sooner about being ace. You’re sure that John will be a gentleman and not attempt any untoward moves, but past experience has made you very wary. 

John arrives right on the dot at 7, forestalling any more worries from you. You force them down; you’re going to have a good time tonight if nothing else. It may fall apart at the end, but you’ll be damned if you let the ending ruin the rest of the evening’s enjoyment for you. 

As it turns out, you have nothing to worry about; John is nothing but an absolute gentleman, and you’re nothing if not impressed at the amount of skill and enthusiasm he shows on the dance floor with you. You’re usually too self-conscious to get out and dance, but going out with John banishes that and you have a lot of fun. You’re enjoying spending some more time getting to know him away from the band and having a chance to actually have a conversation that isn’t being interrupted every few minutes by one of the others. 

He doesn’t attempt to make any moves on you; the most he actually does is wrap an arm around you whenever you’re standing or sitting side by side. He doesn’t even try to go for a kiss when he drops you off at home, which is a bit surprising, but you’re fine with this; it solidifies your image of him as a gentleman and leaves you feeling that the evening is full of a lot of good memories and no regrets. 

Of course, by the next morning, you’re tense again, as the date went _too_ well and you still have to break the news to John about being ace. If it had gone badly, you wouldn’t have necessarily felt as awkward about topping off the evening with that news, but now that it’s gone well you foresee more dates and time together as a couple, and you’ll have to be the one to burst that perfect bubble. You’re pacing the floor in your kitchen, cursing everything under the sun for putting you in this situation. Damn Freddie for introducing you and for building the two of you up to be such a good couple, when he knows what you are. How dare he manage to get you set up with who you’re sure is the perfect man, when he _knows_ it never goes well for you when you out yourself.

You’re not sure whether to be angry, to be sad, to be terrified, so your mind settles on an odd mixture of all three emotions and you ring Freddie up to beg off from the next couple of pub nights. You still attend your uni courses; education is expensive and you refuse to waste the money you’re spending on this, but you can’t face the group right now. They’ll all be friendly and their usual level of affectionate, and you’re sure that if someone asks you how you’re doing you’re going to scream. 

You assume Freddie has spoken to the others as you don’t hear anything, but four days into your forced solitude there’s an unexpected knock on your door. You’re in the middle of trying to write a paper (“trying” being the operative word) and aren’t expecting company, so you have no clue who it could be. When you open the door, you’re surprised to see John standing there, shoulders hunched against the seasonal chill and usually fluffy hair getting soaked in the rain. He looks like a half-drowned puppy, so you immediately invite him in out of the cold and wet. “Did you walk all the way here?” you chide gently, pulling a towel from a closet for him to dry off a bit. “You’ll catch cold if you’re not careful.”

He accepts the towel gratefully and takes a moment to make himself at least somewhat presentable, then just looks at you for a moment. His gaze is intense and you feel all your tension from the past few days come rushing back as he watches you. After what feels like forever but in reality is probably only more like 30 seconds, he sighs. “Did I do something wrong?”

Now that’s not something you were expecting to hear, and in fact, you’re not entirely sure you’ve heard him correctly. “…what?”

His brow furrows as he speaks again. “You haven’t been around or spoken to any of us in days, and that seems a bit odd. Especially because you’ve said you would rather spend your time at the market stall rather than here on your own. Given the timing, I’m gathering that it has something to do with our night out. So please tell me; did I do something wrong? If I did, I apologize, but I thought you enjoyed yourself.” He’s wringing the towel in his hands at this point while he speaks, likely to give himself something to focus on during this. 

You’re shocked that he could even think that, but he does have a point. Disappearing without a word after a date does make it look like you were displeased by something, and you wonder if he’s been just as stressed as you’ve been for the past two days. You move closer and shake your head. “No, Deaks - God no. That was the most fun I’ve had on a night out in a long time. There’s nothing that you did.”

He doesn’t look convinced, so you gently take the towel from where he’s twisting it into knots and put it aside before holding his hands in your own. You don’t want to lie to him, but you also don’t feel like you can drop a _sorry I had a bit of a crisis over my sexuality_ confession on him right now. You settle for a partial truth and vow to really get on telling him the whole truth at some point soon. “I disappeared because I was scared.”

You take a breath, and he raises his eyebrows slightly but says nothing as he waits for you to continue, ever so patient. “Most of my past relationships with people have started well, then gone…badly, to say the least. I was worried that would happen with you, and I was having a bit of a crisis over it if I’m being honest. I was hoping that giving it a day or two might help, but honestly, I should have probably just talked to you in the first place instead of assuming those things of you.” You can’t look him in the eyes right now, not when you’re not telling him the whole truth, and not when you’re also admitting the dark anxieties that have been plaguing you since your date.

There’s a moment of silence, and you’re expecting John to pull away after hearing what you assumed of him, but he actually does just the opposite and pulls you closer into a hug. “It’s alright, love,” he murmurs gently. “I won’t lie; I really did think I’d done something to hurt you and I wish you had just told me, but I understand.”

You decide that you really don’t deserve someone as kind as John. But he holds you close in that warm strong hug for a while, and you have to admit you do feel a bit lighter for having seen him and spoken to him about (some of) the troubles you were having. You insist that he stay around for a while until the rain settles a little, and make him some tea while he rifles through your meagre collection of LPs at your insistence. He settles on an old Benny Goodman one, and the two of you chat for a bit over a cuppa before he has to leave, both of you looking much more relaxed than earlier when he does.

He gives you another hug on his way out the door and makes you promise not to sequester yourself away like this again if something’s bothering you. You tell him you’ll do your best, to which he smiles. Halfway down the stairs, he stops and turns back to face you. “Will I see you at our show on Thursday evening?” he asks hopefully. 

“You won’t be able to keep me away, Deaky.” You grin, feeling much better than you have in days. 

——

It turns out that John’s not the only one that’s been worried about you, and stopping by the market the next day leads to a miniature riot as you’re practically tackled the moment you set foot near Roger and Freddie. “Darling, we were so worried! Don’t frighten us like that!”

You’re touched by their concern, but you have to remind them that you do need oxygen before they ease off. Freddie still doesn’t completely let go, though, and he refuses to let you out of his sight for the remainder of the afternoon, as though he thinks you’ll disappear when he’s not looking. It’s a bit irritating as you’re trying to get some course reading finished, but you also think it’s incredibly sweet that he cares so much. Freddie chatters to you about what you’ve missed in the past four days and tells you that you absolutely “canNOT miss any more concerts, dear! Watching Brian and Deaky try to do their own makeup is an absolute travesty, and I’m only able to be in so many places at once!”

You roll your eyes at his theatrics, but promise him that you won’t deprive him of band staff if you’re so vital to their success. Freddie is effusive in his gratitude, only pausing to clutch his chest dramatically when you joke about wanting a raise. You don’t see as much of Roger throughout the day as Freddie monopolizes your time, but as soon as the stall closes, Roger drags you all off to the pub to meet up with Brian and John, and celebrate a return to normalcy. 

——

Things do go rather back to normal, with one small exception: you and John’s relationship. For the most part, things stay much the same as they always have been between you two, except now you’re in contact a lot more when you’re together; holding hands, leaning up against each other, occasionally sitting on his lap with his arms wrapped around you when the pub doesn’t have the space for an extra seat. The last one still leaves you a bit uncomfortable, but that’s less to do with John and more to do with the things Roger tends to do with his dates when he does the same. Some things should really not be made public, and you know you’re not the only one out of the group that thinks it. Otherwise, things do settle back down into a routine, which leaves you just hoping for an opening to talk to John.

You’re also waiting for the shoe to drop. Not that you want something bad to happen; not at all, but you know from past experiences that something bad normally does. Things are going so smoothly; it’s only a matter of time. 

As it turns out, you get the opportunity sooner than you think; a few weeks later, they have a spectacular concert, and they’re all riding the post-performance high when they come back to their dressing room at the end. They’re laughing and joking, and John, in particular, looks incredibly excited by how well it’s gone. He makes a beeline over to where you’re leaning on the arm of the couch, and just picks you up and spins you around in a circle, wanting you to share the celebration with him. You make a token protest at being manhandled like that, but one look at the big smile on his face, and you can’t help feeling like his happiness is contagious. Soon you’re laughing at his antics, enjoying the moment… up until he murmurs into your ear: “Come home with me tonight, love.” 

There it is; the metaphorical shoe dropping. Immediately you stiffen in his arms, suddenly feeling sick. You know you should have talked to him already about this, but there was just never a good time. Now you’re simultaneously berating yourself and feeling nauseous because you’re about to ruin everything. Even though you know it’s not a fact about yourself that you can change, you still feel like you should be able to Do Better; to have been able to fix something that could have salvaged this. 

John can tell that there’s something wrong because you’ve stopped laughing, so he puts you down again and just holds your hand, giving you a concerned look. “Everything alright?”

You hesitate for a moment, then shake your head mutely. You know this needs to be done, but it doesn’t make the conversation any easier. You’re about to crush his enjoyable night and ruin the best relationship you’ve ever had. “…we need to talk. Alone.”

Now John is really looking worried, but agrees, and goes about his business cleaning himself up and changing out of his stage clothes. After he finishes, he comes back over to where you’re hunched up into a little ball on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees. You both wait for the others to finish, and when they do John says he’ll catch up to them for drinks after and shoos them on their way, leaving you both on your own to have the Talk. 

When the room is empty, John pulls up one of the chairs closer to where you haven’t moved from the couch and sits facing you. “Alright then, what’s wrong?”

You’re not able to speak right away, because the more you think about it, the more you’re getting worked up, and you’re trying so hard not to break down and cry over this in front of John. He doesn’t try to rush you, bless him, but the longer you wait, the worse you feel. You try to talk, but find that the words are just getting stuck in your throat. “I’m… I don’t…”

Seeing how clearly distressed you are, John reaches over and unwraps one of your arms from where you have it locked in a death grip around your knees, and holds it in his, gently rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb. That kind tender gesture pushes you over the edge though, and you can’t hold back the tears anymore, bringing your other arm up and burying your face in it so you don’t have to face John while your heart is breaking. 

“Love, please look at me?” He sounds like he’s a bit distressed himself now, and you force yourself to look up and meet his gaze, trying vainly to wipe away some of your tears. “Please talk to me?” he’s still so gentle and understanding, and you almost can’t bring yourself to do this, but you’re in too far to back out now. 

“…I’m asexual,” you mumble, looking down at your knees again. You can’t bear to see the look on his face, not when you know you’re either about to be ridiculed or shouted at. You’d like to at least keep the last image you have of John in your mind as being kind and concerned, rather than mocking your ongoing struggle.

“And?”

That response makes your head shoot up and look at him. _What the hell?_ You had expected laughter, derision, anger…definitely not this calm indifference. That almost makes you angrier, though - how can he possibly be so calm about this? Does he not see how much it bothers you and how hard it was for you to tell him? 

“…what do you mean, ‘and’?” Your voice is incredulous. 

John just looks at you with the same warm smile he reserves just for you and gently squeezes your hand. “And…so am I.”

Your eyes grow wide and you know you’re gaping at this point, but you really weren’t expecting that. Sad as it is, your first instinct is that he’s lying to better mock you later, but you banish that thought. John would never intentionally be that cruel. “…really? You’re not putting me on?” You pause for a moment. “Sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just…”

“…bad experiences,” he finishes your sentence. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that; you didn’t deserve any of it.”

You’re still trying to compose yourself from your breakdown earlier when John continues to surprise you with things you don’t expect to hear. “…I must confess, I already knew about you being ace.”

“…what.” You’re really not sure what to expect any more at this point. Maybe you’ll see pigs start sprouting wings and fly across the sky. Either way, you’re no longer as upset as earlier and are now just confused.

“Er… yeah.” He rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly with his free hand. “Freddie told me a while ago.”

 _“…WHAT.”_ Confusion has given way to anger, and you can’t believe Freddie would out you like that. Especially without telling you! Why would he do this? What was he thinking? Sod that; clearly, he wasn’t thinking! _You have half a mind to-_ your thoughts are cut off by John explaining: “He knew I fancied you, and didn’t want to see you get hurt. So he told me if I ever disrespected you, I’d find out just how good of a boxer he really was.” He winces slightly, but you’re feeling slightly better about Freddie’s reasoning now. You’ll still give him a bit of a talking to about this, but you appreciate that he was looking out for you. 

Now that your emotions are settling down, you’re still left with one question. “I just… I don’t understand, Deaky. If you knew I was ace, and you’re ace… why would you ask me to come home with you? Freddie must have told you I’m not the slightest bit interested in having sex. Were you hoping I’d make an exception?” And if your voice holds a small note of accusation at the end, you blame it on the stress. 

John shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not! I won’t deny that I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing that with you, but that’s more of a nice mental image than any real sexual interest. Besides, I would never make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with.”

“Then why ask, if you don’t want to sleep with me and know I don’t want that with you?”

He has an amused smile now. “But I do want to sleep with you; _just_ sleep, though,” he adds on, seeing your vaguely exasperated look at his bad joke. “I wanted to have you with me tonight; to be close to you. Is that too forward of me?”

Honestly, after the hellish emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on today, the thought of not being alone tonight is an appealing one. You shake your head in response to his question, and John smiles again before coming to sit beside you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. Now that your brain is settling down and finally processing that _the best relationship you’ve ever had has just gotten even better because he **understands**_ , you’re actually able to enjoy this moment. You know things won’t always be perfect, but right now, you’re happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also @smittyjaws on Tumblr, if you want to hit up my dumpster fire of a blog!


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